Fook

by Brian Drinkwater

  “Oh, crap!” Jason exclaimed as he dove for the device, expecting to see a shattered screen as he flipped it over beside a dirty sock and half eaten banana.

  Thankfully, the screen was intact, but his relief was short lived. Getting to his feet, his eyes remained fixed on the fuzzy image filling the screen. Somehow, between the fall and being picked up, the photo app had been activated, displaying one of the hundreds of photos currently housed in the tablet’s flash memory. No other photo could have caused his heart to sink deeper into his stomach however. It was grainy and had obviously been taken in a low light situation with partially obstructed visibility but it wasn’t the poor quality of the image that sickened him. Lying on a bed, pantsless and with a massive, purple dildo on his chest, was none other than the sixteen year old version of himself.

  “What?” Jason questioned the photo confused, trying to process what he was seeing.

  This was the first time that he’d seen a photo from that horrible night…which he’d always found surprising. He knew there were others out there. There had to be. He recalled seeing cameras before managing to free himself and run from the room, but remarkably, no images had ever surfaced…until now and on his best friend’s computer nonetheless.

  Before he could analyze what he’d found any further, the iPad chimed again as another text message appeared at the top of the screen. As if the image before him wasn’t enough to get his stomach churning, the new words to accompany it were.

  Bethany: I analyzed that red fluid you gave me.

  Quickly, Jason swiped at the message, displaying the conversation taking place between Derek and none other than the female counterpart to last night’s failed experiment in blind dating.

  Derek: What is it?

  Bethany: Blood.

  Derek: What?

  Bethany: That’s it. Blood. Simple Type O negative blood. Where did you say you got it from again?

  His heart completing its decent, Jason bolted from the room.

  *****

  Splintered remains of what used to be a fence laid all around Ty’s feet. Happy to have made his way from the car to the Nesbit’s front yard unseen, he now stood in the open, staring at the demolished fence that had once divided the Nesbit’s side yard from their neighbor’s. As far as he could remember, the fence had been fine earlier that morning, but now only the back half of the fence still stood. Looking around, the freshly cut stump and random small branches, scattered about the neighbor’s yard, told him everything he needed to know about the events that had unfolded after he’d left.

  Suddenly realizing the vulnerability of his position, he quickly stepped through the debris field, attempting to avoid any potential nails in the fallen boards and ducked into the shadows of the side yard where the damage became even more evident. Not only had the fence fallen victim to the since cleared tree; the house had also suffered a significant blow.

  “The guest room,” he thought, trying to recall the floor plan from that morning’s installation as he stared at the damaged window, which had since been covered with a bright blue tarp and an abundance of duct tape. “Not the most secure fix,” he thought while at the same time appreciating the Nesbit’s carelessness. While the alarm system was deactivated, this window still provided an easier point of entry and exit. His son was only one room over and with the Nesbit’s bedroom all the way at the back of the house, he figured he’d have no problem peeling back the tarp, slipping inside, and sneaking away with his son without anyone even knowing he was there.

  Confident in his new plan, Ty removed a pocket knife from his back pocket and began carefully cutting at the crease were tape met tarp. Avoiding the ripping sound of the sticky fabric, the temporary cover slowly succumbed to the blade as the corner gave way from the smooth stucco finish and inch by inch the blue barrier fell to the side as an opening, large enough to quietly slip through, was made. Folding the knife, he returned it to his pocket and cautiously stepped over the low sill and into the room.

  Darker than the shadowy yard, the dim street lights that had aided him outside, barely penetrated the unlit room. Ty attempted to remember what the room looked like as he pulled his second foot through the window, bringing it to rest on the invisible floor beneath him. From what he could remember the room was furnished sparingly.

  “Bed over there,” he thought, turning his head to the opposite side of the dark void, picturing the neatly made, double guest bed. “There’s an easel over here,” he reached his hand out, checking the distance to the recalled wooden tripod. “And over there is the—“

  Standing chest high, penetrated the dark from the direction of the recalled dresser, was a tiny red light, floating in the darkness.

  “Did I install a camera in here?” Ty recalled the system’s layout. “No. There’s a camera in the main entry, living room, nursery and master bedroom.”

  Whatever that light was, he hadn’t put it there. Terrified that maybe the Nesbits hadn’t been so careless about their security after all, Ty stared in the direction of the door, expecting Mr. Nesbit to come bursting into the room, fist swinging like he had the night before but the door remained closed. The lights remained off and the house remained quiet.

  Remembering that the room had been clean and fairly spacious, he quietly made his way toward the beacon. The outline of a small white object, sitting on the remembered dresser, came into view as he grew closer. Beside it stood the door to the living room and beside that, the light switch. Light no longer necessary however, he ignored the switch and reached for the door knob, slowly turning the surprisingly noisy handle and carefully pulled the door toward him. The light from the dimly lit hall, poured in through the crack, bringing out the dresser’s deep cherry tones and illuminating the ghastly attempt at art currently resting upon the easel. More interested in the surprise piece of surveillance equipment though, Ty paused in his departure to take one last look at the tiny device and smiled as he read the brand name along its base.

  Tyco

  “A baby monitor,” he smiled. “Hardly a sophisticated peace of surveillance equipment,” he thought.

  Glad that the device hadn’t been a camera but still cautious of its powerful microphone, he released his grip on the noisy doorknob and carefully slipped through the opening that he’d already made.

  Not sure if it was the fear of being caught or the excitement that only twenty feet of floor space and one door was separating him from his son, Ty suddenly realized that his heart was pounding; so hard in fact that the thought of his heart being so loud as to register on the monitor crossed his mind. Disregarding the brief, illogical thought however, he carefully crept toward his sleeping son’s door.

  Taking the door knob in his hand, he considered the very likely possibility of another monitor in the child’s room. Thankfully quieter than the previous knob however, Oliver’s door silently pivoted on its hinges, welcoming him into the room.

  Similar to the hall, two night lights illuminated the happily decorated room. Admiring the cheerful decor as he made his way toward the crib, Ty made note of each detail with every intention of replicating it in their new home. Slowly creeping to the edge of the crib, he again became aware of his pounding heart, though only for a moment as it all but stopped at the sight of the empty crib.

  “What the fuck?” he whispered, forgetting about the possible second monitor.

  Scanning the room, another monitor stood atop the changing table, thankfully with its power light off.

  “He must be in their room,” he thought as he contemplated what to do next. Logic told him to get the hell out of there; that this wasn’t going to work right now and that he’d be better off coming back once the Nesbits began to feel more comfortable again. Logic was typically a powerful persuader, but logic had never met Grandma Ushi, and he knew what she would say if he returned to the car without her great grandson.

  “Failure! You are failure and disgrace!” she would scold him. “My great grandson count on you to rescue him from im
postors and you let him down. Shame! Shame!”

  Practically hearing the disappointment in his grandmother’s phantom voice, Ty quickly made his way out of his son’s room, back into the hall and before he even realized it, to the Nesbit’s closed bedroom door.

  “This wasn’t part of the plan,” he thought. He didn’t know what he was going to do. All he knew was that he couldn’t...no...he wouldn’t leave without his son. He hoped to find him asleep in a little bassinet, away from his stand-in parents' bed and close to the door so that he could just poke his head in, snatch him up and disappear into the night but as he slowly opened the door, his hopes faded as Mr. and Mrs. Nesbit came into view, asleep on the queen size bed with little Olive peacefully passed out between them. At a loss for what to do, he proceeded into the room anyway, pushed by his grandmother’s persistent nagging until he found himself standing beside the bed, staring down at the woman who had the audacity to call herself mom.

  Only a few feet away, Ty wanted nothing more than to just grab his son and run, but there was no way to reach him without disturbing the sleeping parents, so he continued to watch the trio, contemplating just how he was going to pull off this abduction. He didn’t have much time however as Oliver began to shift, his motion shortly followed by a couple of short “Cacks” and eventually the start of a cry.

  “I’ll get a bottle,” Mr. Nesbit announced as he got to his feet and as Mrs. Nesbit rolled over to comfort the hungry child, her eyes still closed and mind still partially focused on sleep.

  Receiving the embrace of his temporary mother, Oliver quieted but remained awake as Mr. Nesbit stumbled past the closet and out, into the hall.

  Thankfully, the closet door had been open, so quickly ducking inside had been silent and easy. “This is it,” Ty thought as he watched the father’s departure through the now only partially open, door. Reaching into his back pocket, he began to withdraw the pocket knife but quickly reconsidered as he thought about what that meant. He’d come there willing to do whatever it took to claim his son, even if it meant murder, but the knife was to risky. What if Mrs. Nesbit got out a scream before he was through, or even more concerning, what if she struggled and in that struggle the knife slipped and ended up coming to rest inside Oliver’s tiny body? No, the knife wasn’t going to work. He let the small blade drop back into his pocket. Looking around he spotted a silky, purple robe on a hanger beside him. Quietly he wrapped the end of its belt around his left hand as he drew it from the loops and exited the closet. Careful not to make a sound, he slowly retook his position over the sleeping woman as his son, catching a glimpse of his true father, turned his head and offered an excited smile.

  Sensing the child’s movement, Mrs. Nesbit opened her eyes to see the boy smiling at something behind her. “What are you so happy about,” she offered Oliver a groggy form of baby talk as she turned and came face to face with Ty.

  Shock delaying her scream, Ty took the opportunity to deliver a devastating blow to the woman’s face, stopping the scream and leaving the mother teetering on the verge of unconsciousness.

  “It’s okay,” Ty comforted his son as he slipped the robe’s silk belt around the woman’s neck. “You’re almost home.”

  Oliver’s smile grew and he let out an excited squeak as his father tightened the purple fabric.

  Mrs. Nesbit’s body tensed as the blood flow to her brain was suddenly cut off and the veins in her neck began to bulge with the added pressure.

  Seeing this, Ty pulled harder, bracing his foot against the frame of the bed as the thin fabric began to cut into the woman’s skin. Given her nearly unconscious state, she wasn’t putting up any fight and it wouldn’t have surprised him in the least to see the skin around her neck suddenly tear under the immense pressure, adding a loss of blood to the cause of death. He pulled tighter.

  “Who...!”

  Ty turned to see Mr. Nesbit charging at him, lowering his shoulder and launching him backward into the fragile drywall beside the bed. The two men, jarred by the sudden impact, both fell to the ground, though Mr. Nesbit, less affected by the blow, quickly got to his feet and continued his assault with three swift blows to Ty’s head.

  The room spun with each additional blow as Ty struggled to maintain his grasp on reality. Acting on pure survival instinct as Mr. Nesbit continued to deliver blow after blow, somehow the pocket knife ended up in his hand. Pushing the release, the blade slid out of the handle as he buried the knife into Mr. Nesbit’s thigh.

  The father let out a painful cry as he stumbled backward, tripping over a pair of shoes and falling headfirst through the fragile closet door.

  Trying to make the world stop spinning, Ty stumbled to his feet, grabbing his face as he realized that his left eye was already swollen shut.

  Lying halfway inside the closet, Mr. Nesbit lifted his leg toward his hands and with another cry, yanked the blade out of his leg. Fighting back the pain, he reopened his eyes just in time to see his seven iron barreling toward him, instantly turning his world dark.

  Standing over him, Ty continued to deliver blow after blow with the club, leaving Mr. Nesbit’s head unrecognizable and relocating its previous contents to the surrounding walls and neatly hung clothes.

  Exhausted, Ty dropped the club, ready to claim his rightful spot beside his son, however before he could fully turn around, the lamp that had been beside the bed, struck his right temple with a crushing blow. Falling to the floor beside his victim, Ty only momentarily caught a glimpse of Mrs. Nesbit before his knife came to rest deep within his only remaining good eye.

  With the delivery of the knife to the assailant’s eye, Jennifer watched as the man’s body twitched momentarily before going limp. Struggling to get to her feet, tears began to flow as she stared at Bill’s lifeless body and the urge to vomit battled with the wails of sorrow erupting from her lungs as she struggled to remain upright, leaning against the closet door jamb while she stared in horror at her dead husband.

  “Oliver,” she suddenly remembered and pulling her eyes away from the tragedy that lay before her, returned to the bed.

  Oliver just stared at his mother as she made her way back to him. The smile that he’d had just prior to the attack was now a cold, almost inquisitive stare as his eyes suddenly shifted toward the door.

  Jennifer turned just in time to see the white burst of the muzzle as a bullet struck her forehead, repainting the wall behind her.

  Standing in the doorway, Ushi lowered the revolver as Mrs. Nesbit dropped to the floor beside the bed. Carefully tucking the gun back into her purse and refocusing her attention on her great grandson, she made her way to the bed.

  “Who that?” Ushi asked in a playful tone.

  The smile returned to Oliver’s face.

  “That my little angel?"

  Oliver kicked his feet.

  “That my precious little angel?” she continued in full blown baby talk. “I think it is.”

  Kicking one of the fallen woman's legs out of the way, Ushi stood beside the bed and reaching down, hoisted Oliver into her arms.

  Oliver just stared up at her, his smile still beaming.

  “That my great grandson. That little Oliver. But I no think you look much like an Oliver. Do you?”

  Oliver giggled.

  “What horrible name. I going to give you new name.”

  His smile faded as he appeared to listen.

  “From now on your name...Jason...Jason Fook.”

  The smile returned.

  *****

  “Jason! Jesus! You scared the shit out of me,” Derek jumped as he caught a glimpse of his roommate, standing silently in the lab’s doorway.

  Jason didn’t say a word as he continued his silent stare.

  Putting his phone down on the counter next to him, “How long have you been standing there?”

  Still no response.

  Tracing Jason’s blank stare to the medical coat beside his phone, “Oh...I...”

  “Going somewhere?” Jason broke
his silence.

  “No...I mean. Shit,” Derek, at a rare loss for words, realized that there was no use lying. “I was going to—”

  “—to see her?” Jason completed his nervous roommate’s sentence.

  “Yeah,” Derek admitted. “I’m sorry man. I know we discussed not going back so soon but you did say that you weren’t interested so I figured—”

  “—It’s fine,” Jason issued an emotionless approval as he slowly advanced toward the counter at which Derek sat.

  “Really?” Derek responded, confused but relieved.

  “Sure. I mean, what kind of friend would I be if I got in the way of true love?” Jason continued his slow advance.

  “I didn’t say anything about true love. I just wanted to go back and give her the coat and…” Derek hesitated as he noticed that Jason’s hands were hidden behind his back. “I know that nothing can come of it but I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to...”

  Jason stopped at the opposite side of the counter.

  “What do you have?” Derek motioned to Jason’s concealed hands.

  “Who were you talking to?” Jason changed the subject.

  “What?”

  “Before you realized I was here. Who were you texting?”

  “Ah...no one,” Derek lied, unsure exactly how to bring up the conversation with Bethany and the fact that he’d given her a sample of the core liquid a couple of days ago. “I loaded the trip calculations into the phone as a back up this time...you know, just in case.”